Page 81 of A Tower of Half-Truths

Fifty

The spiral stairs led to a tiny room that appeared to be a dead end.

But then Mavery Sensed a swarm of buzzing red auras: another fabrication spell.

This one came from a pressure plate embedded in the stone wall.

She pushed it, and the wall swung open into a large chamber.

With the flick of his wrist, Alain sent his orb of light ahead of them.

The chamber was sparsely furnished with a four-poster bed, a trunk at the foot of it, a wardrobe, and a single chair.

If this was a wizard’s tower, this had to be the wizard’s living quarters, though it was evident no one had actually lived here in a very long time.

The air was stagnant, and everything was blanketed in dust. Though the furniture remained standing, the linens upon the bed and tapestries upon the walls were so threadbare, they looked as though a gentle breeze would be enough to disintegrate them.

The floor-to-ceiling windows had become so caked in dirt from remaining belowground, no natural light shone through.

At the far end of the chamber was a door that glowed with blue and silver auras.

But there were no personal effects, nothing to identify the tower’s previous owner. The wooden trunk seemed the most promising place to find answers. Alain tried to lift the lid, only to discover that it was secured with a padlock bearing a green patina.

“Can one of you scrounge up your lockpicking tools?” he asked.

“No need,” Neldren said.

He shouldered past Alain and brandished his pistol.

Alain flinched, but instead of firing a shot, Neldren struck the butt against the padlock.

The clang of metal on metal made Mavery’s ears ring.

After the second strike, the lock snapped in half and clattered to the floor.

Neldren holstered his pistol with a grin.

“Now, what treasures did this wizard go through so much trouble to hide?” He raised the lid and frowned. “Books. Why did I even ask?”

He and Ellice stepped away, no doubt to search for something more worth their while. As Alain carefully reached for one of the books, Mavery conjured her own orb of light. She brought it close enough to read the embossed lettering on the cover: A Treatise on the Ktonic Magicks. The author was—

“Aganast,” she gasped.

“And there’s that word again,” Alain said.

The two of them exchanged a look.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Mavery nudged his shoulder. “Open it!”

“I will, but with caution. These books are centuries old.”

She nodded, though she still huffed impatiently as Alain took his time opening the cover.

The book reeked with the musty stench of vellum—real vellum, not the cotton-based imitation that modern books were printed on.

Many of the pages contained colorful illustrations of winged beasts.

They looked more suitable for a book of fairy tales than a scholarly treatise.

She attempted to read over Alain’s shoulder, but it was written in an old form of Osperlandish.

That, combined with the blocky lettering, made the text difficult to parse at first glance.

There were still plenty more tomes to investigate, so Alain placed this one aside. Following his lead, Mavery extracted another book and handled it as though it were a newborn babe.

“Aganast also wrote this one,” she said. “The Burden of the Senova. What’s a ‘Senova’?”

“Not a clue. He coauthored this one as well: The Ninth School.”

“Ninth School? I thought there were only eight Schools of Magic.”

“Perhaps it’s referring to wizarding schools. The coauthors’ names look familiar. I’ll bet you anything they were members of the Order of Asphodel.”

“Either the wizard who owned this tower was a very dedicated fan, or Aganast wasn’t the humble sort.”

“Or, Aganast wanted to ensure his work didn’t fall into the wrong hands. Let me see your pack.”

Mavery raised her eyebrows at him.

“Mine is already filled with my own books,” he said, but she continued to stare at him. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head as she laughed softly. “Pilfering first edition books like a common thief. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I’ve rubbed off on you.”

Alain shrugged. “I highly doubt Aganast is going to mind. Now, help me gather these up. I want to study them more closely once we return to Archstone.”

“What, this décor isn’t cozy enough for you?” Neldren called from the opposite end of the room. “I thought wizards and towers went together like bread and butter.”

Alain turned to him, then startled. “What are you doing!?”

Neldren was prising a candelabra off the wall, while Ellice was stuffing her pack with candlesticks.

“Collecting our payment,” Neldren said. He gave the candelabra another tug, and it clattered to the floor. “Didn’t you and Mave promise to share any treasure we find in here?”

Alain rubbed his forehead and sighed. “All right, but remember: anything of academic value is—”

“All yours, mate, mark my words.”

Aside from the books and silver, there appeared to be nothing else of note within this room, but that didn’t stop Neldren and Ellice from searching every nook and cranny.

Alain and Mavery returned to moving the books to her pack.

There were only eighteen in total, but if this small collection shed any light on the mysterious “ktonic magicks,” then it was more valuable than an entire tower’s worth of silver.

With the living quarters now thoroughly picked through, the group headed to the door. Its protective ward was permanently anchored to the silver doorknob. With the Sensing spell still active, the blue and silver auras were visible to all four of them.

Neldren whistled. “Well, I’ll be godsdamned.”

“It’s beautiful,” Ellice breathed. “So this is what magic looks like to your eyes?”

“More or less,” Mavery replied with a shrug.

“And this ward is child’s play,” Alain said. “With any luck, we’ll find more sophisticated magic downstairs.”

“Don’t sound too eager, now,” Neldren grumbled.

Alain broke the ward with little more than a wave of his hand, though Mavery noted how he turned away, attempting to hide his pained expression. The door’s hinges creaked as he pulled it open. With his orb of light guiding them, they descended single file down another narrow, winding stairwell.

At the bottom of this one was a room so cavernous, even Alain and Mavery’s orbs combined couldn’t illuminate the entire space.

The far corners remained completely shrouded in shadow.

Unlike the living quarters, this room contained no windows.

The walls were covered in bookshelves that stretched from floor to ceiling, though many of the lower shelves were bare.

Upon the floor were piles of books that Mavery assumed had fallen during the tower’s ascent.

Alain took a step forward.

“Wait,” Neldren whispered. He grabbed Alain by the sleeve and pulled him back. “I felt something in the shadows just now.”

“Can you see what it is?” Ellice whispered.

He closed his eyes, and a faint scent of ash lingered in the air as he probed the darkness. Their surroundings were so quiet, Mavery’s ears began to ring again. After an excruciatingly long moment, Neldren opened his eyes and shook his head.

“My magic’s too spent to see anything, but I can tell we’re not alone. Keep quiet and tread carefully.”

Alain gripped his staff. Mavery’s and Ellice’s hands hovered close to their blades.

Neldren’s rested on his pistol. As they crossed the room, even the softest steps sounded like thunder against the stone floor, until they reached a section that was covered with an old rug.

Though it was as tattered as the linens upstairs, it dampened their footfalls all the same.

A large desk sat in the center of the room. The papers on top were covered in dust, yellowed with age, and splattered with hardened wax from candles that had burned down to their holders. There was also a journal splayed open on its final entry.

4 Nivose, 534

It has been five months since I fastened myself inside my tower with only Nox for company.

Were it not for my commitment to this journal, I would have long ago lost count of the days and given to madness.

That none from the Order has followed my instructions and dispelled the wards, I take as the gravest omen.

To leave, we might well run afoul of the Dyadic lunatics. Yet, should I remain here, my larder will run dry within a fortnight and this wretched place will become my tomb. I must convince Nox to

The entry ended there, unfinished.

“This was Aganast’s journal,” Alain whispered. “I recognize the handwriting from the letter Con…” He took a deep breath. “From one of his letters.”

“He spent five months in this place?” Mavery whispered back.

“Reminds me of my own confinement.”

“At least you had sunlight.”

“At least he had company.”

She looked at Alain, but he only gazed at the journal. He tucked it in the outer pocket of his satchel, where it wouldn’t be jostled around with the much heavier books. He then riffled through the loose papers on the desk.

“Oh, you bookworms will love this,” Neldren said wryly. Despite his warning about staying quiet, his voice wasn’t far off from its normal volume. “Come over here and take a look.”

Alain turned to Neldren and gasped. He and Ellice were removing books from the shelves, opening them, and promptly tossing them onto the mound of books at their feet.

“I always figured some wizards were full of shit about all the books they claimed to read,” Neldren sneered. “Look, this library is full of fakes! All covers, no pages.”